


Astraphobia

by Doveheart



Series: Necessary Evils [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mostly Platonic, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4752608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doveheart/pseuds/Doveheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papalymo would do anything to end the war — even make a deal with the Lord of Levin himself.</p><p>AU where there is no Warrior of Light to stop the Garleans</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cumulus Stage

You want a revelation; you want to get it right.  
But it's a conversation I just can't have tonight.  
You want a revelation; some kind of resolution.

\- No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine

  
  


_Astraphobia:_ the fear of thunder and lightning. 

_-_

It starts and ends in a flash of lightning and a bang of thunder.

“I always thought if one of us had to be the monster, it’d be you,” Yda whispers with a meek laugh, it is nearly lost to the sounds of the storm.

Papalymo takes her hand, “It wasn't supposed to happen like this.”

“No. I suppose it wasn't,” she grips his hand tightly and she can't tell if it's the rain or if she's crying.

-

_**Cumulus Stage:** Warm air is lighter than cool air, it starts to rise. If the air is moist, then the warm air condenses into a cumulus cloud. The cloud will continue to grow as long as warm air below it continues to rise. _

-

“What news from La Noscea?”

“The Garleans approach ever closer. Most of the eastern coast has been evacuated.”

Minfilia closes her eyes and covers her mouth in thought. Y'shtola places the report she had been reading from on the desk.

“My lady, if I may, the Ceruleum plant in Thanalan has also fallen.”

“That is hardly good news, Thancred...” Minfillia's shoulders slump. She sits down behind her desk and smooths her hands over the papers there. Nothing but reports after reports of settlements falling. The Archons fall silent as they watch their leader. The air is heavy.

Finally, she asks, “How are the beast tribes?”

They all exchange looks. Every one of them is exhausted and dirty from days in the wilderness of assigned area. None of them had gotten much sleep. They had all been watching and hoping that what appeared to be an invasion was just some cruel joke. It had only been five years. No one was ready to go back to war.

Especially not without a Warrior of Light.

Y'shtola clears her throat first, “They are all gathering crystals. I suspect it won't be long before we see the first of the primals attempting to go to battle with the Garleans...or each other.”

Yda slams her hands on the desk, “This is a full out invasion! Should we not be preparing for war?! What are the City-states doing?!” her voice echoes around the Solar, causing Minifilia to jump.

Papalymo glares at her, “You want us to go to war?! We know next to nothing of what powers the enemy commands! How do you expect us to fight the unknown?”

Her shoulders shake, “We can't just stand around while they step all over us! This is our _home_!”

Thancred shrugs, “If the beast-men are willing to fight the war for us, who are we to stop them?”

“You honestly think that the primals alone can beat the might of the Empire?” Y'shtola snaps. She takes a deep breath, “It doesn't add up. Why are the Garleans attacking now?”

“They show no fear of the primals,” Papalymo muses.

“Do they honestly think they can win a war against the primals?” Y'shtola looks down at him.

“We need to know more...” Papalymo whispers.

“Well we aren't learning anything just standing here!” Yda says.

-

Only five years since the Calamity and the realm is barely stable. It started with a small increase in Garlean spies appearing over the borders. Then small encampments appeared over night and within a week they grew into towering citadels. The city-states' forces were already spread thin dealing with keeping the beast tribes in check, but this...

No one expected Gaius to pick up the campaign the Emperor abandoned. No one had been keeping a close eye on the Empire so the invasion came swift — but one thing they did know: they had found something beneath Ala Mhigo.

The large and various Castrums they had set up along the edges of the realm grew in what seemed one night. Metal and steel soldiers and machines poured from them in the dark and slowly the outer edges fell in silence. The smaller settlements had no time to react, they were just suddenly gone, joining Ala Mhigo. The city-states scrambled to evacuate their civilians and worked on fortifying their armies. They held fast — still weak and scared. They were not united as they once had been.

The Warriors of Light were gone. The weight of the realm fell to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn alone. It was all too soon, too fast.

Everyone was scared.

-

Compared to the rest of the realm, the Black Shroud is barely touched by the invasion. Castrum Oriens has expanded and the settlements of the East Shroud have been abandoned, but the Garleans do not push past the Eastern woods. Stranger yet then the apparent pause in the Garlean invasion is that the sylphs that do not revere Ramuh have disappeared.

“Do you think they're scared of Greenwrath?” Yda asks. They are set up on a cliff over looking the Castrum. Dots of metal and steel can be seen below them. Gridania has all but given this part of the Shroud up to them. The Garleans have not tried to go past the East Shroud.

Papalymo scoffs, “They are already covered in woodsin,” he narrows his eyes, “They...seem to be dwelling here for a reason.”

They are extending their steel cities, constantly cutting down trees and chasing wildlife. They are extremely aggressive to the sylphs that try to stop them, but they seem to hold back on culling them or completely taking over the sylphs' stronghold. Torture of the beast tribe, though, is not below them.

“Do you...think they fear Ramuh?”

“No,” Papalymo shakes his head, “I think they are temping the sylphs to summon him.”

“Why would they _want_ Ramuh to be summoned?”

“'Tis seems we are missing a rather important piece of the puzzle, Yda.”

-

“You want to do _what_?!”

“Keep it down, Yda. I was simply making a suggestion,” Papalymo growls, side-eyeing her.

“Your _suggestion_ is to try and _talk_ with a _primal_!”

Minfilia holds up her hand to silence Yda, “Papalymo. Help me understand. You want to try and communicate with the primals?”

He clears his throat, “I believe you had the right idea before the Calamity. To unite the beast tribes.”

“We tried that, remember?” Thancred frowns. “It failed, even with the Warrior of Light. What makes you think this will be any different?”

“We simply were not talking to the right primal.”

“And who do you suggest we speak to then?” Y'shtola shows a slight intrigue.

“Well, Titian is known to be gentle, thus he may be more willing to negotiation. While in contrast Garuda would be more than willing to go to war,” Papalymo pauses, “And we could always do with Ramuh's knowledge.”

There is a pause while everyone takes in what he said. Thancred furrows his brows and Y'shtola cocks her head to the side. Yda is shaking her head and Minfilia has her eyes closed.

“No.” Minfilia says after a while. Her voice is strangely strict.

“Antecedent?” Papalymo seems surprised by her sternness.

“You are not immune to a primal's influence. I will not allow any of you to risk yourself for what might as well be a fool's errand,” a pause, “We... _you_ are the only hope Eorzea has.”

-

“Yda? What are you doing?”

“Praying.”

“Yda—”

“The Twelve have to listen to us! We need them!”

-

It is raining when Yda and Papalymo return to the Shroud. They set up their camp on a cliff a bit closer to the Garleans and take turns keeping watch. Yda tries to keep conversation but Papalymo is distant. They have only been back in the Twelveswood for a few days when it becomes very apparent something is happening. There seems to be a buzz of activity below them and the Garleans are starting to march war-machines into the heart of the Sylphlands.

“What are they doing?”

“We need to follow them,” Papalymo stands and beckons for Yda to follow.

They stay on the ridge, behind the treeline, as they travel behind the group. The Garleans at first only have problems with local wild life and do not run into any Sylphs right away. There is a feeling of tension — the whole forest is afraid. The rain is coming down harder now.

Yda doesn't notice Papalymo has stopped until he grabs her arm and tugs her down. She covers her mouth to silence her gasp and follows his gaze. The war-machines and accompanying soldiers have came to a large clearing and a large group of Sylphs are blocking them from continuing.

“Metal Ones will come no further!” One of the Sylphs shouts.

A man in bright crimson armor steps forward. He raises his gunblade to the Sylph, “I don't think you are in a position to give orders,” he laughs, motioning to one of the suits of magitek armor. It steps forward and starts to charge its cannon.

“Is that—” Yda whispers.

“Nero tol Scaeva,” Papalymo growls. He starts to draw back.

The magitek fires. There is chaos. Sylphs are screaming and the fight breaks out.

“We have to do something!” Yda yells over the commotion.

“Wait — Yda!”

She has already jumped off the side of ridge, sliding down the steep dirt incline. She rushes into the fray and Papalymo curses. He loses her among the soldiers and the magitek. There is gunfire and spells flying from every direction. He hears thunder roll in the distance. He tumbles down the ridge after her, drawing his staff from his back.

Papalymo finds Yda among the confusion, she's swinging punches and dodging with flips and cartwheels. Sometimes he forgets how graceful she can be. She is making her way directly to Nero. Papalymo stand back, dodging and weaving between the bodies. Yda is cutting a path through the army. Over the smell of rain, Papalymo smells gunpowder and blood. He backs her up with magic, shooting down anyone she doesn't notice.

A bullet grazes his arm, slicing through the thick fabric of his robes and grazing the skin. It burns and draws blood. He snarls, turning and shooting a fireball from his staff. He loses Yda again. He can hear her shouting — he can't make out what she's yelling. He needs to get into one of the magitek armors. Papalymo starts to run and that's when the chanting starts.

“ _Heed This One's call_!”

Sylph chanting.

“ _Lightning doth strike_!”

He uses a fire spell to send one of the soldiers in a magitek suit falling to the ground and scrambles up into the seat. He bites his lip, struggling with the controls before is jerks under him. He looks up and starts to run the war-machine towards Yda.

“ _Thunder doth roll!_ ”

The chanting is louder — nearly deafening and he notices that there are much more Sylphs around them. They are surrounded in the clearing, yet the Garleans fight on. Nero begins to laugh.

“Yda!” He yells over the sound. She spins to face him.

“ _Lord of Levin! Lightning bright! Thunder bold!_ ”

There is a flash of lightning bright enough to temporarily blind them and the crash of thunder that follows leaves a ringing in their ears. Time seems to stop. Everyone freezes.

“Run,” Papalymo whispers. He stands up in the machine.

Yda stumbles back. The rain is coming down hard enough to leave bruises.

“ _Run_ , Yda!” He yells, leaping from the magitek. He grabs her wrist and tugs her. Another bang of thunder shakes the ground, lightning flashes behind them.

A Sylph's voice again, “ _The wicked burn, their pyres bright, smote by Levin's blinding might._ ”

They don't look back and they don't stop running but the ground shakes again. The can hear the Garleans starting to run too and then the screams. The sound of thunder drowns it out. Yda and Papalymo run until their legs burn and then some. They finally allow themselves to find their camp and collapse. They see a few soldiers crawl from out of the woods. The storm doesn't stop, but after a few hours, the rain lessens slightly. The thunder and lightning continue on. They don't speak, but Papalymo holds Yda and makes heat with his magic when she starts to shiver in the cold.

-

There is no activity for days. Yda and Papalymo see Garleans moving in and out of their metal settlements but they do not attempt to gather any sort of army. The storm does not stop, but it calms, if only slightly.

Yda wants to leave the Shroud and tell Minfilia of the developments, Papalymo says they should wait and see what happens. The Garleans did this for a reason—they just need to know why. They just need more information.

And it is Papalymo's thirst — need — for answers that lead him into the Slyphlands late into the night. He waited until Yda was asleep and it is his turn to keep watch, then he straps his staff to his back and sets out into the woods. He, like the Garleans, encounters no Sylphs and when he arrives at the clearing, it is empty. He wonders if he should turn around and go back, but something tells him to stay.

He kneels in the clearing. He does not pray. Does not speak. The winds blow around him, tossing the edges of his robes. He waits. Rain drips from his hair and after a while he begins to shiver. Papalymo stands up. He looks around the clearing and curses himself for being so foolish. A crash of thunder makes him jump.

Irritated, he calls out, “Lord of Levin! Will you not grace me with your presence?”

There is a flash of lightning behind him. He can feel the electricity and the powerful being.

“ _You call upon a god you doth not understand, child_ ,” it is a voice as deep as the thunder.

Papalymo does not turn. A fear ripples through him. He squares his shoulders, “I want to end this war.”

“ _You ask favors from the Lord of Levin but what doth you offer in return?_ ”

He turns around now. Seeing the primal with his own eyes takes his breath away and he can't speak. Finally, he glances down and swallows.

“I can...offer myself.”

Ramuh looks at Papalymo, taking him in, “ _Sin doth stain the hearts of us all. Purge thy flesh of fear and be strong._ ”

Thunder crashes and Papalymo's head throbs. It is sharp and cold. He loses feeling in his fingers first, then it spreads. He falls to his knees. Then the pain starts — it feels like his head is going to explode and he can hear every raindrop and its much too loud. He's shaking and tries to yell but no sounds come. The world spins.

There is a flash of lightning again and Papalymo shields his eyes. When he opens them Ramuh is gone and so is the pain. He stands shakily, nearly falling. There is a dull ache behind his eyes. A twig cracks.

“Papalymo?”

He spins around quickly, “Yda?”

“What have you done, Papalymo?” 

 


	2. Mature Stage

Would you leave me if I told you what I've done?  
And would you leave me if I told you what I've become?

\- No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine

  
  


_**Mature Stage:** When the cumulus cloud becomes very large, the water in it becomes large and heavy. Raindrops start to fall through the cloud when the rising air can no longer hold them up, making rain. Thunder and lightning start to occur, as well as heavy rain. The cumulonimbus is now a thunderstorm cell._

-

“Papalymo—”

“ _Nothing_ happened, Yda,” he snaps, “I went to check on the Sylphs, that is _it_.”

“Your eyes, Papalymo,” she whispers hoarsely.

He stares at her. She fumbles around in her things for a mirror and then hands it to him. He takes it and when he sees his own reflection he barely recognizes it. His hands start to shake. His once light blue eyes are now an angry swirling grey reminiscent of the storm clouds that now gather above them. The greys and purples seems to spin — to move — as if there are thunderstorms in eyes. He closes his eyes and pushes the mirror back to Yda. He smooths his sweaty palms against his robes.

“Nothing happened,” he says again, more to himself than to her this time.

Yda chews at her lip.

-

They don't talk about it anymore but Yda stops pushing for them to return to Minfilia. She watches him carefully, holding his hand more. She sleeps closer to him when he's keeping watch and when she puts her head in his lap, he doesn't move her. She constantly makes bad jokes and puns to lighten the mood.

Yda is scared. When he looks at her, he remembers why he wanted so badly to end the war in the first place. For Yda. But he never wanted to hurt Yda. He never wanted Yda to be involved in this foolish quest for answers.

But the thing about them is that they are a pair — equals; they are one. There is no Yda without Papalymo and there can be no Papalymo without Yda. It is a deep ingrained feeling because they have been together for so long. They were chosen for their individual talents, but they were placed together to make up for their weaknesses. They are unstoppable.

They hate each other and they love each other because they are one. It's the arguments and the small touches that remind them. The spars and the fights that keep them together. They crave the other in a way they can't explain. But it doesn't need words or names. They aren't together, aren't a couple or a family, they are just Yda and Papalymo and that is more than enough.

And this — this sudden new connection — left a space between them that leaves them scrambling. It never had a name before because it didn't need one, yet, they can feel the change.

Yda doesn't know if it's her or Papalymo. They feel distant even when she leans her head down to kiss his neck. He still shudders the same, pushes at her the same and when he says, “Not here, Yda,” his voice is still the same breathy whisper.

But there is something missing. It hurts them both.

-

At first, Papalymo is afraid nothing happened — that what he did was for naught. He is afraid that he messed up, badly and that they wouldn't be able to defeat the Garleans. That Ramuh had used him. It's a sinking feeling that makes him feel like he's drowning. It claws at him. He just wanted to save those he cared about; he just wants to save Yda. He begins to hate himself.

But then the dreams start.

Papalymo doesn't understand them at first. Just dreams of machines and blood. The understanding comes later. At first, he wakes up feeling sick. He throws up while Yda cooks breakfast. He doesn't remember all of the dreams, but he remembers the blood — the gore and protruding bones.

He remembers Yda's broken body thrown to the bottom of a pit and the howling wind.

When she brings him breakfast — soup cooked a bit too long — he grabs her hand and holds it tightly. Yda smiles and then points to a cloud.

“That one looks like a moogle.”

And it does.

-

It is a few more nights before the dreams become more clear and with them the knowledge Papalymo wanted. It happens fast and the dream itself is barely coherent; as if he is seeing the past, present and future all at once. He is looking through the eyes of the Sylphs and he feels at one with the aether around him. It is disorienting and dizzying but in the back of his head, as if spoken, there are answers.

The dream takes him to a clearing and Papalymo sees the Garleans marching. He sees the Ixal preparing for war. The dream changes abruptly when the magitec starts firing. Then it is dark. It smells like steel and blood. He hears a Sylph crying.

At first there is nothing else but then, slowly, he becomes aware of movement and the grinding of gears that hadn't be active in a long, long time. A glowing red light slowly fills the room. Around him are cages and cells filled with captive beastmen of every tribe and in the center of the room is a huge machine monstrosity. The sight of it fills him with fear but he isn't sure why. The red glow radiates from its eyes and a deep growl emits from it. Several of the beastmen howl with it.

Papalymo awakes with a jerk. He's sweating and reaches over to touch Yda's arm. She had been keeping watch and turns to look at him.

“Are you alrig—”

“We need to go to Coerthas.”

She wrinkles her brow, “Now?”

“ _Now_.”

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?”

He stands up and starts to pack up the camp. He can't look at her. “Just...know we will end this war.”

Yda doesn't say anything else, but she helps him pack up and then the two set out. It is a couple days journey which is lengthened by the fact that they have to keep off the main roads to stay out of sight of the Garleans. They are ill prepared and even more ill-dressed for the cold that greets them in Coerthas but Yda keeps up conversation the whole time. Papalymo is happy for that — he doesn't think he could stand the quiet.

Papalymo doesn't know how, but he is able to find the clearing with relative ease. It is just as he saw in his dream, between Coerthas and the Shroud. There is a large Ixal community near the edges of it. They had passed a large, but new, Garlean encampment in the North Shroud but the Garleans had yet to near the clearing. The two Scions set up camp inside the treeline next to clearing.

“There's a lot of crystals over there,” Yda says. She is messing around with the Aether meters while Papalymo works on cooking some food for them. She takes it off and stands, trying to get a better look at the Ixal camp. Papalymo glances back at her and follows her gaze.

“Give me that. Use your own,” he grabs the meter from her and fits it onto his face. It sparks to life and he narrows his eyes. He can see the streams of aether and crystalline formations at the far end of the clearing, in the Ixal's camp. He takes off the meter. He already knows what is happening, but just seeing the massive amount of crystals they have accumulated made him his gut twist.

He smoothed his hand over his face, “They plan to summon Garuda.”

Yda looks at him, “And the Garleans are going to make sure they don't have a choice.”

He nods and then turns back to the fire and the fish he was cooking, “But that...That is a lot of crystals,” there's a shake in his voice and he realizes he is still missing something very important.

-

“I'm starting to think the Twelve won't help us this time, Papalymo.”

“Aye. Perhaps it is time to take our destiny into our own hands.”

-

It is a long, boring, drawn-out week before anything happens. Yda complains and whines the whole time. Papalymo helps her catch fish and teaches her a few new recipes other than her...sad attempt at stew. It keeps her content — for the first half of the week; then she takes to punching trees and throwing dirt clods. They've see a few Garlean spies poking around the clearing and Yda scares them all off by throwing rocks at them. They are jumpy and tense, obviously not wanting anything to do with the orders they were given.

Near the end of the week is when it finally starts. There air is heavy and Yda is practicing her kicks against a badly battered tree when Papalymo calls her. She rushes to his side. He motions for her to be quiet. There is a rush of activity among the Ixal and they can hear the commotion even at their camp. The two of them sneak closer, until they can see into the camp. Yda has he hands on her weapons and Papalymo closes his eyes.

The Ixal are praying to the crystals.

“We have to stop them—”

Papalymo reaches over and grabs Yda's hand, swatting it off her weapon. The wind starts to howl. At the other end of the clearing, the Garleans are starting to gather.

“We have to see what the Garleans are planning,” Papalymo's head hurts. There are voices in the back of his head and he can't tell if they are real or not.

“Papalymo—”

Then the wind starts to laugh, a deep, almost feminine laugh.

He jerks Yda back into the trees. She pulls her arm away from him.

“What are you doing?! We're _Scions_! We are supposed to stop the Primals not just sit idle as they are summoned!” she snaps. Her fists are shaking.

“We don't know what the Garleans are planning!” He growls back. His fingers twitch against his staff.

“So what? We just stand here and watch?!” She swings to punch him.

He dodges, “Don't be foolish, Yda!” He raises his staff.

“Are we just going to let the beastmen fight our war then? Hide like cowards?!” She rushes at him, throwing another jab.

He doesn't respond but the lightning strike is swift and she tumbles to dodge it. It grazes her thigh and she yelps. She does not move to stand. They both look at the scorched earth were it hit. There is a silence. The power behind the magic was more than either expected. Having their arguments spiral into the physical blows is nothing new to either of them but Papalymo suddenly did not know his own strength. Something has changed. She swallows and looks up at him. The wind is too harsh now. Papalymo takes a deep breath and walks over to help Yda stand.

They return to their camp and he helps Yda tend to the burn on her leg. They don't speak. His hands linger against her skin and his chest hurts. He misses her even though she is right in front of him. Yda pushes her forehead against his but when she meets his eyes, she has to look away.

-

Within days the Garleans amass an small army, complete with magitec armors, at the end of the clearing. The Ixal keep guards posted at all times but they do not move to attack — strange for the aggressive birdmen. Powerful winds blow throughout the clearing and a vortex seems to shield the actual encampment.

On the fourth day, a figure finally steps forward into the field. He approaches the Ixal and they bristle and squawk as he gets closer. No other Garleans go with him, he moves alone. Papalymo and Yda get a closer look at him as he walks past their camp hidden in the trees. The is an air of power around him and they both hold their breath.

They know exactly who it is.

“The Black Wolf...” Papalymo whispers.

“What is he doing here?”

Papalymo just shakes his head. They watch as Gaius comes to a stop in front of the Ixal. The beastmen run at him, readying their preemptive weapons. Gaius shoots them down with one shot each. The rest hesitate. Gaius laughs.

“Is that all?!” He holds his arms out. “Where is your eikon to save you?!”

There is a gust of wind and he shields himself, nearly falling from the force. He grunts and as it dies down slightly, a laugh echos around him. Yda gasps next to Papalymo.

“ _Is that all_?! Impudent mortal!” Garuda cries out. She floats in front of him, her wings beating against the ground and the wind howling around her. Something stirs in Papalymo and he grabs Yda arm. She shoots him a look but he cannot look away from the Primal.

“Now.” Gaius says.

There is a shudder, the sound of a massive airship passing overhead. Yda and Papalymo jerk their heads up in time to see a ship fly over the clearing. It drops something — something huge. The ground shudders as it lands. The dust clears fast in the wind. At first it is just a mass of black and red metal but then it raises and unfolds itself. It's a giant machine, shaped like a dragon. It is unlike anything they had ever seen but clearly of Allagan technology.

“W-what is that?” Yda whispers harshly.

There is a fear in Papalymo and he doesn't know why, “I...I'm not sure, Yda.”

Garuda gives the object a questioning look and laughs. She flaps her wings, taking off into the air. She dives the creature with her talons extended. The monstrous machine is amazingly agile and it dodges her with ease, spinning so its tail smacks the Primal from air. Garuda digs her claws into the creature and the steels whines under her grip. It turns to grab her and she forces a gust of wind strong enough to send it sliding through the dirt. Gaius has to dodge his own weapon and snarls in Garuda's direction.

The biotech doesn't pause and turns back to the Lady of the Vortex. It grabs her with a swift extended hand and she struggles against her grip. She screams loudly and the Ixal attack, piling onto the machine. His grip slackens and she slips from his claws. The beast shakes the beastmen from him, their weapons bouncing off of its steel flesh. He swats them away like they are pesky flies and the one that are not killed by the force scatter.

Garuda takes off back into the sky again and when she lands, she's laughing — shrill and nearly hysterical.

“You will not have me!” she howls and then she starts beating her wings again. The wind is sharp and whips around them harshly. That's when they notice the captives — Amalj'aa and kobolds. There is a distant yelling in the back of Papalymo's mind and he jerks forward. Yda grabs him. The captives howl in pain as the winds lash at them; Garuda continues to laugh.

“She does not mean to...” Papalymo covers his mouth. He feels sick and his head is pounding. Yda cannot speak, just stares. She is shaking. The Amalj'aa and the kobolds are yelling in their native tongue but they can easily make out the names of their Primals. Yda has to turn away. There is a spray of blood in the wind and it doesn't take long before the captives fall limp and their voices are swallowed by the winds.

There is a silence and a calm, an eye of the storm. Then, a bright glow from the amassed crystals. The whole forest shakes and before them both Ifrit and Titan take form. At first, everything is still — maybe in reverence, maybe in fear. The voices in Papalymo's head calm and quiet.

Garuda is panting but she spreads her arms apart, “Surrender yourselves unto me — I would feast upon your aether. None shall stand against the wind!”

Gaius steps back, hugging the tree line. He motions to his weapon and it steps forward. The three Primals exchange looks. Ifrit lunges first, always fiery and headstrong. The grass around them catches on fire but the machine is able to sidestep the Lord of the Inferno. Ifrit spins and leaps. He manages to land on the back of the creature, his claws melting into the steel. It simply reaches back and its claws find leverage in the Primal's skull, dragging Ifrit from its back. Ifrit growls and attempts too lash out but then quickly, the machine squeezes. There is a sound of crushing bones and then an explosion of light. The essence of Ifrit can be seen drifting into the monstrosity.

There is a brief moment of stillness as a shock sets in. It turns to face Titan. The Lord of Crags squares his shoulders and then charges. The ground around them shakes but the machine wastes no time catching Titan when he nears. It punches Titan in the gut, lifting him from the ground. The Primal swings his own punches but it just bounces off the steel. It tightens its grip, finding the Heartstone instead the Golem-Primal and crushing it. Titan falls limp and the creature throws him to the ground. The earth quivers again and Titan disappears in the same flash of aether.

Both Gaius and his weapon turn to Garuda, “Ancient Allag had ways of dealing with your kind. Now look upon their ultimate weapon, _eikon_ , and despair!”

Garuda's face falls, fear painting all of her features. She immediately tries to take flight but the ultimate weapon jumps and catches her out of midair. It lands heavily and Garuda struggles. The wind is whipping around them and her screams can barely be heard over the howling.

“No! No, _nooo_!” she wails and Papalymo has to look away. There is a crunch and her cries are cut off abruptly. Papalymo swallows and finally turns his gaze back to the sight in front of him. Gaius throws out his arms and the Garleans who had been gathering at the edges of the forest move in. They waste no time starting a blood bath as they attack the now godless Ixal.

Gaius laughs and turns his gaze to the treeline, “Such is the fate of those who oppose the Empire,” he seems to look straight at Yda and Papalymo, “And there will be no Warriors of Light to save you this time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go!


	3. Dissipating Stage

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes.  
I never knew daylight could be so violent.  
A revelation in the light of day:  
You can't choose what stays and what fades away.  
And I'll do anything to make you stay.

\- No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine

 

_**Dissipating Stage:** After about 30 minutes, the thunderstorm begins to dissipate. This occurs when the downdrafts in the cloud begins to dominate over the updraft. Since warm moist air can no longer rise, cloud droplets can no longer form. The storm dies out with light rain as the cloud disappears from bottom to top._

-

The fires are raising from the Ixal camp as Yda and Papalymo sneak past the Garleans. The air is heavy with smoke and the smell of death. They move as fast as they dare to not get caught and eventually, after what feels like much too long, they are able to make it back to the Waking Sands. They burst in through the door and Minfilia jumps.

“Yda! Papalymo!” She exclaims, standing up from behind her desk. She looks exhausted — bags under her red, swollen eyes. Y'shtola is also in the room but she seems reclusive. She looks just as tired, barely holding together. Papalymo keeps his eyes down but Y'shtola cocks her head to the side when she sees him. She wrinkles her nose but says nothing.

Yda jumps right into explaining everything that happened. Well, almost everything. She leaves out the details about finding Papalymo in the clearing and his sudden, new strength. She tells them about the Garleans forcing the beast-tribes into summoning their Primals and then explains the so-called 'Ultimate Weapon' Gaius had dug up. She is as energetic as always but Papalymo is quiet and Minfilia keeps looking to him for him to give his insight. He gives no advice on how to defeat this new weapon nor offers any corrections for Yda's story. They all know something is wrong. Finally, Yda concludes her tale and Minfilia crosses her arms in thought. She says nothing, just looks at Papalymo, waiting.

It is quiet and then Yda asks, “Where's Thancred?”

Minfilia and Y'shtola exchange looks. A strangled sob breaks from Minfilia's lips.

-

“What are you planning on doing, Papalymo?”

“'Tis a _machine_ , Yda, not a Primal. We fight.”

-

Y'shtola corners Papalymo and Yda on their way out.

“What actually happened?” Her voice is bitter, the sound of a woman who had lost so much and can't handle to lose more. Papalymo keeps his head down and Yda glances at him — waiting for him to say something. She nudges him.

“Yda already told you everything,” Papalymo's jaw is clenched.

Y'shtola narrows her eyes, “I am no fool, Papalymo.” She reaches out to him and grabs his chin, forcing his head up. Their eyes meet and Yda has to look away. Y'shtola's breath catches in her throat and then she exhales sharply, “ _Oh Twelve_...Papalymo...You didn't...”

He swats her hand away with more force than intended and a static shock travels from him to her. She jerks her hand back with a small hiss.

He looks at her apologetically and shakes his head, “I have done what I have to to see an end to this war.”

“I will not lose you like I lost Thancred,” her voice is startlingly even and numb despite what she has just said. He just brushes past her. Y'shtola catches Yda's arm as she rushes to follow. They stand in silence for a moment, neither looking at each other. After a minute, she speaks in a harsh whisper. “Enthrallment can only be broken by death, Yda. Just...be ready.”

“I know,” she pushes the words out from between her teeth — it is forced and pained but there is honesty in it. Y'shtola slowly lets her go.

-

Yda and Papalymo prepare to go to war. Papalymo wasn't counting on Minfilia or Y'shtola to help and Yda knew they wouldn't. Not because they were not capable or didn't want to. No. They didn't believe that they could do this. Their hope died with the Warrior of Light. Yda wasn't even sure herself but she would not let Papalymo go alone. They were all supposed to be in this together; that is what made them Archons, made them Scions. But with the loss of Thancred to the Ascians, they were already far from whole. They told Y'shtola and Minfilia that they would fight and that was it.

They set out that night because neither of them could face Y'shtola again.

They didn't want to risk using any Aetheryte crystals in case of alerting any Garleans spies that could be stationed in the any major settlements. The Garleans themselves had not advanced much farther into the lands, simply taking the outskirts of the city-states and feeding their weapon. But the rumors and whispers say that Gaius had sent a surrender request to each of the leaders. Papalymo is not willing to give them a chance to answer.

The two of them almost make it to Central Thanalan before they set up camp for the night. Papalymo gets to work on cooking them dinner and Yda sets out their sleeping cots. She takes too much time smoothing out the blankets, avoiding Papalymo. They have both been silent, strange for Yda.

“Do you have a plan?” she asks suddenly.

“They keep the weapon in Castrum Meridianum.” There are voices in his head. They are louder now.

“And what? We're just going to waltz into the Empire's main base here in Eorzea?”

“Do you have any bright ideas, then? I'd love to hear them!” He snaps, a bit harsher than intended. Yda falls silent. He sighs and starts scooping soup into a bowl for her. He hands it to her and she takes it almost timidly.

It antagonizing as they eat in silent and to help ease the mood, Papalymo reaches out to Yda. He grabs her wrist and pulls her close to him. She leans down and scoops him into her lap. She keeps her eyes closed as she presses her forehead to his and they just sit like that for what feels like ages — just listening to each other breathe. She can't look into his eyes and her hands are balled into the fabric of his robes.

Yda breaks their trance with a yawn and Papalymo pulls away. The fire has died out and the air desert air is already becoming cold. It is not a dangerous area so they have no need to set up cycles to keep watch over each other.

“We should get some sleep,” he mumbles, untangling himself from her lap. She lets go of his robes hesitantly but nods and crawls into her bedroll. He watches her, unable to take his eyes off of her, before doing the same.

Papalymo is haunted by nightmares. At first it is just the sound of crying. His chest is tight with dread and his head throbs with pain. There are voices all around him but he can't make out the words; they are slurred and distant. He feels like his mind is not his own. The images slowly become clearer. It is the Sylphlands and the Weapon. It is Ramuh calling him back. The last thing he sees is an Aethernet crystal.

By the time Yda wakes up, Papalymo is already starting to pack up. He hands her a roll for breakfast.

“Has something happened?” she asks, rubbing her eyes before taking the roll.

“We...need to go back to the Shroud. I need to check on something,” he can't look at her because he can't tell her the whole truth. His head is throbbing.

She gives him a strange look, chewing her breakfast slowly, “I thought we were going to Castrum Meridianum.”

“Trust me, Yda.”

“You make that very hard when you don't tell me what's going on,” she sighs but stands up and starts to roll up her bedding.

Her words break his heart and he glances at her. They have always been close and he was always willing to tell her anything but now it is hard. He doesn't want to scare her. He doesn't want to lose her. And she was right; he was making it very hard for her to trust him. He wishes he could tell her, he really did. But maybe he is selfish — maybe he is in love.

“It won't take long. We can use the Aetheryte.”

“What Aetheryte?” she snaps, irritated, tired.

“The Sylph's Aetheryte.”

“You want to teleport to a beast-tribe's Aetheryte? We aren't even attuned,” she shoots him a look like he is crazy.

Papalymo grabs her hand, “I told you to trust me, Yda.”

She looks at him and takes a deep breath, “Okay, okay. I do.”

Yda tightens her hand around his and gives him a forced smile. It is enough to make his heart flutter and all at once he remembers why he stuck around for so long. Papalymo shifts his bag and closes his eyes. He squeezes Yda's hand and focuses on the Atheryte he saw in his dream. It is just like teleporting to any other crystal but he hears Yda gasp. There is a flash of light and they can feel themselves moving, being lifted from the ground, and then all at once it is over. When he opens his eyes, they are in the middle of the Sylphlands.

Yda is shaking and covers her mouth. She looks like she's going to be sick, “T-t-that felt _nothing_ like normal teleportation!”

Papalymo hadn't felt anything different but he quickly digs out his canteen to give to her. She takes it and gulps down the water. She bends and puts her hands on her knees, panting. There is a few moments where she dry heaves before she straightens. Her skin shines with a sheen of sweat.

“Do you need to sit down?” He asks.

“No. Lets just...get this over with. What are we doing again?” She smooths her palms against her legs and straightens her mask. She is still pale but he doubts that it was just from the teleportation to an unattuned Aetheryet.

He looks ahead, analyzing where they are. It is very quiet, despite the drizzle of rain and occasional bang of thunder. There is no wind and the forest seems too still. He closes his eyes in thought for a moment and listens. In the back of his head he can hear the Sylphs and the words are starting to become understandable. Their language and his mixing together. He learns just to try and pick out words he understands — attempting to listen to the whole thing gives him a headache. They are chattering, preparing for something and he is able to make out that some words. He hears them mention 'Metal Ones'.

“This way,” he says, motioning for Yda to follow. She does so, albeit hesitantly.

At first they see no Sylphs or any sign of life. The forest seems empty. It puts them both of edge. The wet grass muddles their footsteps and Papalymo's pace is fast. He does not try to keep to the treeline or stay hidden. He walks with a purpose and a knowledge of the area Yda knows he did not have before. There is a twisting feeling in her gut as she tries to keep up with him.

And she misses him. Misses who he used to be because there is something wrong and different about him now. It makes her head hurt, her stomach ache. She feels sick just thinking about it. She wants everything to go back to how it was. She prays every night, would the Twelve listen.

Yda just wants the Warrior of Light to come back and save the day again.

She is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't notice Papalymo stop. She nearly runs him over as he holds his hand up and signals for her to be quiet. Directly in front of them is a large gathering of Sylphs and a much smaller group of Garleans. Both groups seem equally tense but neither make any move to attack. They seem to be waiting. The Garleans in particular kept glancing back towards the woods behind them. They are all low ranking and there does not appear to be a commander on the field yet.

The Sylphs are yelling and shouting at the invaders and Yda can't make sense of their words. They are bristling and ready to fight but not willing to make the first move. Most of the Garleans look worn and exhausted like they had been wandering the forest for days. One of them brings his hand to his ear and speaks into his linkshell. Neither Yda or Papalymo can make out what he is saying over the sound of the Sylphs. It is a few more taut seconds and then the sound of an airship is heard overhead. The Sylphs fall silent save for a few whimpers that escape them.

The sound of the airship landing a few malms away makes them swallow their whimpers quickly and they exchange looks. Yet they hold their ground. The next passing moments are suspenseful for all parties and the Garleans watch their backs. After a few moments, the men in the back begin to part and a figure passes through. Yda can make out his red armor from between the Imperials. She takes a step back, ready to leave. Papalymo reaches out and grabs her wrist.

“We have been searching this gods-forsaken forest for _days_. I am not in the mood for games, so, tell me, where are you hiding your eikon?” Nero snaps, walking so close to the Sylphs that he is nearly spitting in their faces.

They all shake their heads furiously, “This One will not tell Metal Ones!”

There is a pause and then Nero raises his gunblade, “Very well,” he whispers just before firing. It kills the Sylph who had spoken instantly and then chaos breaks lose. The Garleans begin the assault and the Sylphs attack back. “I will raze this forest to the ground if I must!”

It is a flurry of magic and bullets. Sylphs are falling right and left and Nero laughs. Papalymo doesn't watch, instead he raises his staff to the darkening sky. Yda glances at him and nods. She dives out of her hiding place and into the fray.

She punches the first Garlean she sees so hard he falls. Nero screams, pointing at her. The Garleans turn to their attention to her. She kicks the next one to approach her in the jaw and he stumbles back. The Sylphs take advantage of Yda's distraction, unleashing chaos. The flash of magic nearly blinds her and she pays for it with a split lip. She spits blood at the Garlean who hit her and knees him between the legs just to show her irritation. He falls to the ground in a heap and she charges the next closest enemy.

A fireball whizzes by Yda's ahead and she barely dodges it before she turns to take out the mage who cast it. She knocks him out quickly but then someone grabs her arm and twists it behind her. She yelps and throws her head back. Her head hits her attacker hard enough that she can hear his helmet fly off and clatter to the ground somewhere behind them. The grip on her arm loosens. She squirms out of his grip and spins to face her opponent, coming face to face with the now helmet-less Nero tol Scaeva.

It has started to rain heavily.

She curses under her breathe just as he shakes his head and reaches for his gunblade. She does a flip over him, putting all her weight against his shoulders as she jumps and shoving him into the ground. Yda is completely surrounded, she can't even see the Sylphs from her position. They circle her like a pack of rabid dogs as Nero stands up and brushes himself off. He is angry, without a helmet, and now, covered in mud and dirt.

“You're gonna pay for that, wench,” he growls.

Yda takes a step back. She keeps her fists up. Nero grabs the hammer from his back and runs at her, yelling. She grits her teeth. She can taste blood. There is a flash of lightning suddenly and then the whole earth shakes with the sound of thunder. Yda hears the Garleans behind her hit the ground and in front of her she sees lightning strike every one of them. They die nearly instantly. Nero freezes.

“Finally,” he sighs, lowering his weapon just inches from Yda, “The Lord of Levin has graced us with his presence—” he turns, only to see nothing but a very angry Lalafell, “Wha-what? You are not the eikon.”

“Papalymo!” Something is changed in him. His eyes look like twisting storms and his body is still. The air around him is charged with static and Yda bites her lip. “Papalymo?”

Nero wastes no time grabbing his gunblade from his back and firing at the Archon and Yda kicks his feet out from under him so the bullet flies astray. He leaps away from Yda, snarling. Papalymo raises his staff again and a lightning bolt strikes Nero's hand. He drops the gunblade; Yda kicks it away and it slides into the forest. He draws his hammer and smashes it into Yda's side. She stumbles back with a cough and when she regains her balance, she stands up straight next to Papalymo.

“A tempered Archon? This is _new_ ,” he hisses, rubbing his injured hand. He squares his shoulders, weapon at the ready, “Show me the power of your eikon then!”

Yda runs in first because Yda is always first to dive into anything. Yda is headstrong and dangerous. Yda will never be second in anything. She is fast and swift, swinging punches and jabs at Nero. At first he is slow to respond — his hammer just barely missing her — but he warms up to her movements quickly.

Nero swings, nicks the side of her face and she cartwheels backwards to regain her balance. Her lip is split and now blood drips down from her nose. He charges and she brings her arms up to block. Papalymo calls down a thunderbolt and it strikes Nero. He gasps and slumps against his hammer. Yda takes her advantage and palms him in the chest. He jerks his hammer and the blunt head smashes into her side. Her ribs crack. She tumbles back. Another lightning spell hits him.

“Two can play at that game...” he whispers, spitting blood. Nero brings his hammer up and summons his own lightning bolt down on Papalymo. The lalafell doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't even blink. It is as if time freezes. The spell hits and the bolt splits around Papalymo; sparks dancing across his skin and robes. Then it draws into him. He absorbs the magic, soaks it up into his skin. His monocle cracks from the intensity of the electricity.

Nero swallows loudly. Yda wipes the blood from her nose on the back of her hand. Papalymo raises his staff.

The Garlean starts to run at Papalymo because he is scared; he is a trapped animal and he will fight to the death like one. He drops his hammer and the ground shudders. Thunderbolt after thunderbolt hit him and although he jerks each time he does not stop running. It all happens so fast that Yda can't stop it.

He rams into Papalymo and they both tumble to the ground. Nero punches Papalymo in the jaw and he jerks his staff into Nero's gut. Blood is dripping from his mouth and skin is covered in burns and blisters. The air around Papalymo shocks him and it feels like needles, but Nero does not stop. He is too far gone. Nero gets in a few more hits before Yda rips him from her companion and tosses him to the side. There is a sound of cracking bones and Nero's breath sputters wetly from his mouth. She goes to help Papalymo stand but he pushes past her.

Papalymo doesn't even look at her, just walks straight over to the battered Nero. He grabs the front of his dented and dirty crimson armor and pulls him up. His eyes are barely open. Papalymo draws back his fist and punches him — he kicks Nero while he's down and the whole time electricity is sparking and burning. Papalymo continues to hit him even after he falls still and a rattle escapes his lungs.

Yda grabs him and jerks him back, “He's _dead_ , Papalymo! It's over!”

A shock hits her hand; it runs up her arm and pain explodes in her chest. She falls back with a loud wail of pain. She scoots back in the dirt and hold her arm to her chest. Papalymo spins and his whole body softens. The storm in his eyes seems to clear and they widen in realization. He takes a step towards her but she flinches back, fear clear on her features. His heart breaks. His shoulders slump.

The rain stops.

“Yda? Oh, Twelve, Yda, I'm so sorry...I-I didn't mean too...” his voice trails off.

“Do you even see what you've become?” she whispers, looking down at her arm. She hesitantly rolls up the sleeve of her shirt so she can see the damage. It is marked with scars that look like tree branches clawing up her shoulder — jagged yet elegant blisters reaching out to grab her and hold her. She squeezes her eyes shut because she can't look at the mess her arm has become.

Papalymo's face becomes stern again, “What I've become?! Everything I've done, I've done for us! For Eorzea — _for you_!”

She stands shakily, still holding her arm against her chest, “I didn't ask for this! I never wanted you to become a monster, not for me, not for anyone!” She spits the words along with blood but her body shudders from the effort. She is so tired. She sighs, tried to flex her fingers and winces.

He flinches at her words and they settle into his gut. She is right. But Papalymo never wanted it to happen this way. His eyes travel the length of her arm. He takes in the bruises, the scars and the blisters. She limps; a rib or two are broken. Her face is covered in blood and he wishes he could just see her eyes. He walks up next to her. He wants to take her hand but he doesn't. Together, they set off to find a place to camp.

He never wanted this to happen but in the end he _did_ ask for this.

-

Yda allows Papalymo to tend to her injuries, mostly because she is always so bad at learning to take care of herself but also because she wants to feel his fingers on her skin. She wants to make sure he still there and he is still real.

He applies a salve onto her blistered arm and his fingers are tender and hesitant. She flinches because it hurts but then she relaxes into his touch. The ointment is cool and soothes the burns. She shrugs off her shirt so he can help wrap the wounded arm in bandages. He swallows because she is still so beautiful. He lets his fingers follow the marks he left all the way up to her shoulder — the scars that look like thunderbolts. He could have killed her, stopped her heart just like he did Nero and he knows it.

He finishes fixing up her arm and reaches for a damp cloth. He uses it to dab at the blood on her lips. She watches him through her visor as he wipes her lip and pats the large gash where it was split. He carefully cleans the dried blood from under her nose and then meets her eyes. He hesitates, but then reaches up to remove her mask. She does not stop him. He slips it off and then sets it aside, he avoids her eyes, but continues to clean the blood from her face. A large bruise is forming on her left cheek under the blood. Her eyes are swollen and red. She has been crying.

Yda suddenly tugs him into her lap and grabs the cloth.

“Okay, okay, it's your turn now! I'm not the only one covered in blood!” She laughs and it is a welcome sound. Papalymo can't help but smile and his heart flutters. Because maybe, when this is all over, they would be just fine.

-

“I'm cold, Papalymo.”

He doesn't have the heart to tell her he can't use fire magic anymore.

-

They stay in their camp in the Sylphlands for a few weeks while Yda heals. The Tempered Sylphs occasionally bring them berries and rolls and Papalymo shows Yda a hot spring. Yda doesn't question anything — she is done questioning. She knows the answers just like she always has and she doesn't want to hear them spoken aloud. She doesn't want to face the truth even when the truth is now seared into her arm like a mess of spider legs.

Yda gets used to the cold rain and the burning on her arm. She learns to keep moving and flexing it, else the scabs harden and rip. She practices her form and her punches everyday to not lose strength even when her lungs are burning and her ribs ache. Papalymo learns quickly not to ask her to take it easy. It is amazing her ribs heal at all with all the movement she kept up.

But they do heal; and soon she is back to being able to train without any pain or shortness of breath. Her arm clears of blisters and scabs and burns, but the thunderbolt scars remain. She keeps them hidden; from herself and from Papalymo. She can't even look at them when she bathes, but she let's Papalymo ease the anointment into it until the weeping wounds heal.

Then, when Yda's strength returns to full, Papalymo has the Sylphs steal a map. That is when they start to plan their next move. He draws Xs on the map and him and Yda talk late into the night. The Sylphs help as best they can but Yda never warms up to their purple-hue. She snaps at them and Papalymo puts a hand on her arm. The Sylphs do not like Yda either. Sometimes they fight, and Slyph's fight dirty. Papalymo often has to pick burs out of Yda's clothes and skin.

Despite the consent quarrels, Papalymo and Yda get some work done. They finalize their plan and then start to pack. It is a simple plan in all reality, but it takes careful planning and Sylph magic. They would destroy the Ultima Weapon and they would end this war.

Yda and Papalymo set out on a crisp morning. The rain is just a light drizzle and the morning dew is still clinging to the grass. The Sylphs bid Papalymo farewell, but just give rude gestures to Yda. Yda sticks her tongue out at them and Papalymo chuckles. The air around them is light. They can do this.

They both nod at each other and start the long trek to Northern Thanalan. They use a few Aetherytes along the way, but keep it to a minimum to avoid being caught. It is a slow and long journey but it is fairly uneventful. The nights are the longest and they usually keep walking until their can't feel their feet. Yda is usually the first to collapse and complain. They set up camp and make dinner. Then, early the next morning, they start again.

It is almost three weeks before they arrive on the edges of Northern Thanalan. They can see the smoke of the Ceruleum plant and even farther away they can see Castrum Meridianum. Yda takes a deep breath and Papalymo takes her hand. This is where it starts, and hopefully, where it ends.

They move more carefully and more slowly through the desert now but with a renewed vigor and purpose. Occasionally they will find no way to sneak past a patrol, but Yda can take them down quickly before cartwheeling back into the shadows. When they get close enough to see the entrance to the Meridianum, the guards are heavy. The Garlean influence is bursting.

“Should we use it now?” Yda whispers.

Papalymo nods and opens his bags. He pulls out two small vials of a purplish liquid and hands one to Yda. The Sylph's magic would allow them to sneak past the guards undetected and into the base, but it wouldn't last long. Once inside, they would need to start the second half of their plan. Papalymo downs the elixir first and Yda follows. It is bitter and she gags but stops herself from spitting it out. She makes a face and at first nothing happens, then her fingers start to tingle. She looks over and can only see a brief shimmer where Papalymo is. Her hands start to fade away.

“That's...pretty neat,” she says.

“We have to move fast,” Papalymo has already started walking. She has a hard time following him but soon she becomes used to his shimmer. It is awkward to walk right past the guards but as long as they keep a good distance, they go unnoticed. They keep to a brisk speed-walk and Papalymo seems to know exactly where he is going. Yda asks once, he only mumbles something about the voices. Yda didn't ask again.

Yda tries to keep her head down but the overwhelming presence of the whole building makes her chest tight. She realizes she is scared. They are actually inside of Castrum Meridianum. They had made good progress and had made it a few floors down. Papalymo told her they had to get to the basement. She didn't know how much longer they had left of their potion but she knew it wasn't much. The floor they were on now looked like a laboratory and was filled with bustling Garleans in lab coats and guards.

Papalymo grabs her suddenly and jerks her to the side inside of a small alcove. She covers her mouth to keep from crying out. She shoots him a sharp look and then notices that the illusion is slowly fading from him. She glances down at her hands and see that they, too, are starting to reappear. She holds her breath and Papalymo glances out to make sure no one is around.

He ducks his head back in, “There's a lalafell scientist waiting for the elevator over there. He looks about my size.”

Yda peeks out, “There are two Garleans guarding the elevator. But...the rest of this hall seems empty.”

“On three then.”

She nods and readies herself, “One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” She yells it loudly and Papalymo's face falls. He tries to motion for her to be quiet but she already has jumped from their hiding place. She is running towards the group of three Garleans and her footsteps echo around the hall. Papalymo curses and quickly follows. The guards turn on her quickly but she wastes no time punching one of them down. The scientist presses the elevator button multiple times in panic. Papalymo shoots the other guard down as he turns on Yda. She rushes over and picks up the scientist but Papalymo stops her.

“Let me! It will be...much less bloody that way.”

She frowns but drops the other lalafell to the ground. Papalymo strikes him with one quick bolt of lightning and his heart stops instantly. He falls into a heap on the floor. The two of them drag the bodies into the alcove they had been hiding in and Papalymo takes the lab coat from the scientist and puts it on over his own robes. It is a bit too small. Yda laughs and rummages around between the two guards. She takes over her mask and headpiece and replaces it with one of the guard's. Then she pulls on their armor over hers. It is a bit of a tight fit but they both look the part well enough. They both collect their ID cards and set off to the elevator.

The elevator arrives just as they get there and they step in. Papalymo selects the lowest level. The music is dreary and Yda tells him so but soon she is humming along with it until Papalymo snaps at her to stop. It is the longest elevator either of them had ever been on but soon, it shudders to a halt. The doors open slowly and they both step out into a darkened room.

It smells like blood and steel. Papalymo remembers it well. Yda reaches over and finds a light switch; the whole room lights up in a dim and eerie glow. The lights coming on make Papalymo jump but his eyes quickly focus on the metal monstrosity in the center of the room.

“There it is. Let's hurry,” he whispers harshly, taking a step forward. Then the clapping starts.

“Well done, Scions, well done! When I received reports of someone sneaking around down here, I never expected it to be a pair of outsiders. Much less two Scions,” Gaius steps out from around the head of the Weapon and his voice bounces from the walls around them. Papalymo pulls out his staff. The air around him crackles. Gaius seems to take him in and then after a pause, “Tell me...For whom do you fight?”

Yda bristles with anger, “What kind of question is that?! We're the Scions of the Seventh Dawn! The ones who stand between this realm and the evil that's trying to destroy it!”

“And if you think we'll leave the stewardship of Eorzea to the likes of you, then you're sorely mistaken!” Papalymo chimes in.

Gaius shakes his head and looks directly at Papalymo, “Are the 'Twelve' otherwise engaged? I was given to understand that _they_ were your protectors. But...you seem to have been touched by another. A beast's god even. If you truly believe the Twelve your guardians, why did you not repeat the trick that served you so well in Carteneau and call them down instead?”

Yda flinches at his words because Yda had tried. Yda tried so very hard to get the Twelve to listen. Yet, they had been silent. Yda blames herself — if she had tried harder, been faster, anything. Papalymo grits his teeth and looks away. Neither one of them offer Gaius a response.

“So be it. Come, Archons, face me!” Gaius takes a step back and into the open hatch at the back of the Weapon's neck. It comes to life with a hiss of machinery.

There is a high-pitched ring and they both dodge to the side as a laser cuts a path where they once where. Yda looks at Papalymo and he nods. She scoops him up and then tosses him onto the back of the machine. The machine jerks violently in an attempt to throw Papalymo off, but he hold onto the steel. Meanwhile, Yda slides underneath it quickly. She glances around the underside of the massive weapon but after finding nothing that looks like a weak spot, she draws her weapons and just starts punching where the steel scales meet. Papalymo starts to prepare a large spell.

At first the weapon simply tries to swat Yda and throw Papalymo from its back. Then, it hisses, and hot steam vents from under it. Yda rolls out from under it and skips around to find a leg to start hitting. Her movements are graceful and fluid as she dances around the huge machine in an attempt to avoid the lasers and now the steam. Whenever she does get hit, she cartwheels away before coming right back to punching and kicking. Papalymo is kneeling against the Weapon's back with one hand twisted into a crack between the steel plating and the other clutching his staff. His eyes are squeezed shut as he tries to concentrate. He imagines the smell of rain, the feel of the wind and the sound of thunder.

Suddenly, there is a gust of air and Papalymo is nearly knocked back. He holds on so tightly that the steel cuts into his hand, drawing blood. Razor-sharp plumes swirl around the room and cut at their skin. Garuda appears in the center of the room and Yda rolls to dodge. The edges of the room become a swirling vortex.

“Now, Yda!” Papalymo slams his staff into the back of the Ultima Weapon and a giant electrical current worms its way in and explodes. Yda rears her arm back and then with all her might punches into the dented leg she had been working on. The whole monstrosity shudders and sparks fly. The lights in the room shatter violently above them in a shower of sparks and glass. The only light left to illuminate the room is the glowing from Garuda and the Weapon itself.

The Ultima Weapon shudders and lurches forward. Garuda opens her eyes.

“I...am _free._ ” She lets out a shrill laugh and spins, throwing out her wings. The gust pushes the weapon back and Papalymo can hear Gaius cursing from inside the hatch. The Weapon reaches out to grab Garuda but she dodges backwards. The whole room echos with her laugh and Yda goes straight back to punching. Papalymo takes a deep breath to steady himself and then closes his eyes again. His head is pounding and his energy is draining quickly.

“You will not win!” Gaius yells desperately.

Garuda lets down another rain of feathers and the Weapon groans under the assault. The ground starts to shake and Yda pauses her fists to make sure she isn't imagining it. Her gut twists and then quickly, she turns and runs to hug the back wall behind them. Titan is expelled from the Weapon and sharp rocks shoot up all around them. The Golem-Primal grabs Garuda's leg and tugs her down. She brings her other leg up and slices it up his abdomen. He throws her and she hits the wall with a cry.

Papalymo grinds his teeth and he can taste blood. His vision is blurry but he is able to let out another discharge of energy. The light from his spell leaves spots in Yda's vision but she sees Titan stand shakily. He looks around confused and then meets Papalymo's gaze.

“My mind is my own? Thank...you,” he then turns his attention to the Weapon also. Titan slams his fists into the ground and it creates a fissure of steel and earth. The roof above them starts to creak and whine. The whole place is going to fall apart.

“Almost there, Papalymo! I believe in you!” Yda cheers, her voice hoarse. She flips back into the fray because she is always so over-dramatic. Papalymo feels something swell in him, pride, power, he didn't know. But suddenly he knew he could do this. It is a rush of power, of mana and of _love_. Because for Yda, for Eorzea he would do whatever it took.

_Whatever it took._

“No! No! This cannot be!” Gaius wails.

A pool of fire starts to form around the room then Ifrit raises from it. He howls loudly and fire expands from around him. Yda burns herself as she tries to jump over it and hisses. Garuda's wings push the flames away from Yda and the cool wind is a relief. Papalymo raises his staff once more and his hands shake when he slams it down. Debris from the ceiling are starting to rain down around them. The force of Papalymo's spell launches Ifrit into a wall and the ceiling dips a bit more.

Ifrit claws his way from the rubble and then a his escapes his throat, “ _Freedom_.”

All three Primals turn to the Weapon and Gaius is frozen in shock and fear. Garuda laughs and the whole universe seems to collapse. It was never meant to be this way. The Ultima Weapon is an ungodly creation used to kill gods. But it had failed. There is too much power in one place. The building collapses, there is an burst — a detonation. Papalymo scrambles from the back of the machine and then everything is lost in the white light.

It is still.

The dust clears and Yda finds herself under a sheet of steel. She coughs and manages to throw it off of her. It is quiet. She is sore and her ribs are probably re-broken. She can't move her wrist. She hisses; trying to get her bearings. She can't remember what happened right away but slowly it comes back to her.

“Papalymo...” She calls and she can barely recognize her own raspy voice. She clears her throat and tries again, “Papalymo!” She can taste blood.

Something — someone — stirs off to the side in the rubble. It is very dark, but some light leaks in through the cracks in what used to be a roof. She scurries to the sound and pries off the slab of concrete there. Papalymo opens his eyes weakly at her and smiles. Rain drops begin to leak in through the holes in the steel.

“Yda. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Papalymo. What about you?” She helps him sit up, her words rushed.

He gives a nod but his face is bruised and blood and he is very pale. “I am...a bit sore.”

“We did it, then.”

They fall into silence and then, “Yda.”

“Don't say it.”

“I don't know how much longer my thoughts will remain my own.” And he can't hear himself think and he feels so weak but his nerves are on fire. It hurts. Just existing so far away from the Slyphs. They want him back — they want him _home_. But there is no Papalymo without Yda.

She looks at him and her face is so torn and it hurts so bad because she knew exactly what is happening. She can't and she won't. He touches her face and she pushes her forehead against his. Papalymo's eyes are no longer his own, they are swirling, cloudy and distant. Papalymo is no longer there.

“Papalymo...” she whispers.

“Allow me my freedom, Yda.”

She takes a deep breath and nods against him. She reaches for a sharp piece of metal and presses it gently against his chest. He meets her eyes and places his hand on hers. Together they push. He gasps and then smiles. She hears his breathing stop and only then does she allow herself to pull him close. She kisses his forehead for the first, and last time. She sobs then, wailing loudly but it is lost to a bang of thunder.

The wind picks up and her shoulders stiffen. Yda turns ever slightly and meets Garuda's eyes. The primal holds out her taloned hand. There is still much to do — there is still revenge to be wrought. There is no Yda without Papalymo.

It starts and ends in a flash of lightning and a bang of thunder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> done! longest thing i have actually finished in a long long time. i may write more in this AU, still want to explore what happens to thancred!!


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